


Til Death Do Us Part

by SingingInTheRaiin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (i guess you could think of him as an avatar but idk), But there are some differences, Canon Ace Character, Gen, Jon is an agent of death, M/M, Martin is supposed to die when he encounters Jane Prentiss, Season 1, Sort of AU, but Jon says no, but don't think too hard about the timeline, the entities still exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28772727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingingInTheRaiin/pseuds/SingingInTheRaiin
Summary: Jon is an agent of death sent to escort Martin to wherever people go after they die. But after getting to know Martin a little better, Jon realizes that he can't just let Martin die, even if it isn't his job to interfere.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 11
Kudos: 81





	Til Death Do Us Part

Jon double checked the email outlining his latest job, then walked up to the front door of the flat he’d been directed to. He knocked politely, and waited somewhat impatiently for the door to swing open. He was studying the file on his phone intently, and hardly noticed the one who answered the door. “Good evening, I’m your escort Jonathan Sims, here to…” he trailed off as he finally looked up and saw his client. He gulped once, then immediately looked back at his phone screen so that he could barrel through the typical speech without getting distracted by such a… distracting person. 

Before he could go on, though, the other person spoke. “Er, escort? I think- I think you must have the wrong address. I never- I mean I didn’t- I wouldn’t-”

It took Jon a moment to realize why his client seemed so embarrassed, and then Jon’s own cheeks darkened. He cleared his throat and gave the man an annoyed frown. “Not that kind of escort! I’m here to escort you to After.”

“After what?”   


Jon narrowed his eyes. “Just- After! You know, after life? Death? Where you go after you die?” When he only got a confused stare, Jon furrowed his eyebrows and glanced down at his phone again. “You are Martin K. Blackwood, aren’t you?”

Martin nodded once, looking somewhat dazed. “Yes, but I don’t… I mean, I’m still alive, aren’t I? Is this- is this some kind of prank?”

“What kind of stupid prank-?” Jon rolled his eyes, then forced himself to take a deep breath in and slowly let it out. He was the one who had begged to get his first assignment, but he hadn’t expected his client to be so argumentative. He held out his phone, practically shoving it in Martin’s face. “Look, will you just sign on the line and come with me already? I’ve got a long list of others to get to tonight.” He didn’t actually have any other clients for tonight, but thought that it would be best to hurry Martin through this before he could argue again.

But whoever gave Jon this assignment was clearly trying to get him, because Martin just continued to stand there, blinking at Jon from behind thick rimmed glasses. “Look, you have to hear how insane this all sounds. Do you really expect me to believe that you’re a- a-”

“An agent of death?” Jon offered, doing his best to sound impatient.

“Exactly!”

Jon let out an annoyed huff, then pulled his phone back so that he could look at Martin’s file again. He shoved up his glasses when they slid too close to the end of his nose, then cleared his throat and read out loud. “‘Martin K. Blackwood, 24 years old, father is dead, mother is ill and mean, has difficulty making friends, graduated high school in the middle of his class, enjoys reading and writing poetry.’”

Martin took a small, nervous step back. “Any online stalker could find that stuff out,” he argued.

Jon continued reading without responding. “‘Has no real ambitions in life, lied on resume about qualifications so he constantly feels as though he doesn’t deserve his job, struggles with self-worth issues, drinks his tea with two small spoons of sugar and a dollop of cream, is afraid of dying alone and unloved after a lifetime of isolation from his peers-’”

“That is quite enough!” Martin interrupted. His face was quite red, though Jon wasn’t sure if it was because of embarrassment or anger, and to be honest, he didn’t really care. He was just here to do his job. (He just wished that one of the other agents had explained to him just how difficult it was to escort such a stubborn person to After.) For a moment it looked like Martin was going to shout, but then it seemed as though his entire body deflated, and he slumped down. “So how did I die?”

Jon skimmed over the file, then looked back up at Martin. “Well, technically speaking you aren’t dead yet. It’s not exactly orthodox to come early like this, but I figured I’d save you the pain and just take you away now. Believe me, you’re much better off just dying of something quick and painless now rather than waiting for tomorrow.”

A moment passed in stunned silence, and then there were heavy footsteps behind Jon. He glanced over his shoulder and saw someone who must’ve lived in one of the nearby flats walk past, giving Jon a quick look before he kept moving without saying anything. It was clearly a very friendly neighborhood.

Then Jon turned back to Martin just in time to have the door slammed in his face. “I’m terribly sorry to be so rude, but I am not ready to die. Even if it is just for one more day, I- I’d rather wait.”

Well shit.

,,,

Jon ended up waiting awkwardly out in the hallway all night, because he wasn’t sure what else to do. He wasn’t even supposed to be here yet, not until the moment of Martin’s death, but he’d been so certain that it would be the right thing to do to come early. He could see the glaring red circle over the messaging app that showed he had a waiting notification. There was no way Jon was going to check it, though. It was probably from his boss, wondering where Jon was. And if Jon read it now, his boss would know. It would be better to just wait this situation out and hope he could plead not guilty once he finally brought Martin to After.

He ended up slumped over in the doorway, and fell over abruptly when the door opened. Jon scrambled up to his feet, brushing imaginary specks of lint off of his nice work clothes (which were now slightly rumpled from being slept in. Thanks a lot, Martin).

Martin looked surprised to see Jon there. “Oh-! I thought… I guess I thought maybe it was all just some kind of bizarre hallucination.” He let out a resigned sigh. “But I guess you’re really here.”

“No need to sound so disappointed,” Jon grumbled lowly. 

“Well you certainly can’t expect me to be happy about this,” Martin pointed out. “Look, I really need to be heading out now if I don’t want to be late for work. Ms Robinson is generally pretty laid back, but I’ve already been late so many times and-”

Jon held up a hand to cut off the rambling. “Yeah, yeah, I already know all that.” It’s not as though Martin’s file was very long, so getting through the whole thing hadn’t taken much time at all. Jon looked around the empty, somewhat desolate looking hallway, and shook his head. “Well, I’m certainly not staying here. Do you even realize what a crappy place you’re living in?”

The unamused look Martin gave him seemed answer enough to that. Martin sighed, and jammed his hands into his pockets. “I suppose… you could come with me?” he winced immediately, like even the thought of such a thing was enough to cause him harm. “Only, you have to promise that you won’t tell anyone there about the whole- erm, agent of death thing. I’m sure you already know about it, but the place I work is…”

“The Magnus Institute archives, yes, yes, I know.” He gave Martin a sideways glance as they went down the stairs and exited the building. “But surely you don’t actually believe in all that, do you? The supernatural, I mean?”

Martin stumbled slightly before continuing. He opened his mouth, then glanced around at the other people they passed by before he looked back at Jon. “Can other people see you? Or do they think I’m just a nut talking to myself?”

“They can see me,” Jon assured him. “Though I’m sure there’s plenty of other reasons for them to think you’re a nut. Like that you seem to genuinely believe in the supernatural? It wasn’t really in your file other than a vague mention, so I wasn’t sure.”

As they headed down into the underground, Martin lowered his voice a little. “Are you telling me that you don’t believe in the supernatural?” If he was talking at his normal volume, his voice probably would have come out sounding a little shrill.

Jon shrugged one shoulder. “Why should I? I’ve never seen anything supernatural before.” When Martin just stared at him with wide eyes, it took Jon a moment to figure out what was wrong, and then he let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, you’re thinking that I must be some kind of supernatural thing, right? But you’re wrong. Death is a very natural process, and it is only natural for there to be people to escort the dead to where they’re supposed to be. Nothing supernatural about it all.”

From the look on Martin’s face, it was apparent that he disagreed with that, but that wasn’t Jon’s problem. He followed Martin onto the train when it arrived, and immediately wrinkled his nose in disgust. Of course he knew what the subway was, but he’d never been on one before. It was stinky and crowded and hot and everyone looked dead inside. 

They rode in silence until Martin indicated that they’d reached his stop, and then they walked the remaining few blocks to the Magnus Institute. It was a pretentious looking building that seemed almost like it would serve better as the setting to a gothic movie than as what was essentially a glorified library.

They walked inside, and a young woman at the front desk tilted her head. “Good morning, Martin. And who’s your friend?”

“This is Jon. He’s, uh, he’s here to give a statement.” The woman nodded in understanding and then looked away, having apparently already lost interest.

Martin led Jon to a rickety little service elevator that definitely looked like it should have been retired from use about half a century ago. “You trust this thing?”

When Martin took in Jon’s nervous look, his eyes widened, and he turned to stare at the elevator like he’d never seen it before. “Is this how…? Am I going to…? Should we just…?”

Jon shook his head. “You’re not going to die in an elevator, Martin. Do you really think I’d break the rules to help you avoid death by elevator?” As Martin nodded, only looking vaguely relieved, Jon added, “But… just to be on the safe side, let’s stick to the stairs for today.”

When they entered the archives, which was a surprisingly small room at the back of the basement, there were two people already there. The woman looked up to give Martin a friendly smile. “There you are! And, oh- hello, I’m Sasha James.” She walked over and held her hand out expectantly.

This was already far more interaction with other people than Jon had planned for, but since he technically only had himself to blame, he went along with it and accepted the handshake. “Jonathan Sims.”

“And what can we do for you, Mr. Sims?” the other man in the room asked, a hint of flirtatiousness in his words. “I’m Timothy Stoker. But you can call me Tim.”

Since it was expected of him, Jon shook hands with him too before taking a slight step back. He glanced over at Martin, but neither of them had thought of coming up with a good reason for why Jon was accompanying him to work. Since Jon didn’t know what else to say, he just repeated what Martin had said to the receptionist upstairs. “I’m here to give a statement.”

Martin let out a choked sounding noise, then nodded in agreement. “Yes. We, er, bumped into each other on the street, since he was heading here anyways, and- and I offered to show him the way. So here we are.” His voice broke off on a slightly higher pitch. Clearly Martin was a terrible liar.

Fortunately, his coworkers didn’t call him out on it. Sasha just nodded once, and continued to give Jon a friendly smile. “Since you don’t have an appointment, Ms Robinson, the Head Archivist here, may not be able to take your statement personally, but if you don’t mind, it would be easy enough for you to write out your statement and then be on your way.”

The idea of having to not only make up a statement that would sound just plausible enough for these crazy people to believe it, but also having to write it all down only to then get kicked out and spend the rest of the day until Martin’s death wandering around certainly did not sound like Jon’s idea of a fun time.

He would have said so, too, but a new figure entered the already cramped feeling space and cleared his throat. Jon turned to look, then did a double take. There were many things that could be said about Jon, but that he was a bad student was not one of them (well, depending on who you asked, since his teachers had hated his limited attention span and constant need to fidget- but the point was that Jon remembered everything he’d learned). He would not forget the face of anyone who had been escorted to After, and so he found himself undeniably staring at the face of a dead man. It took him a moment to recall the name that matched the face, and then he muttered, “Elias Bouchard.”

Elias gave him a grin that sent chills down Jon’s spine. “Ah, I see my reputation precedes me. And you are?”

“Mr. Sims is here to give a statement,” Sasha explained pleasantly. Then she kept talking, but Jon found himself somewhat zoned out. He couldn’t stop staring at Elias. What were the odds that it was just an uncanny doppelganger who just so happened to share the same name and be working at a place devoted to the study of the supernatural?

It was just so strange, for this to happen when Jon had just explained that he didn’t believe in the supernatural less than an hour ago. And yet he was hard pressed to say that there was anything natural about this. Human bodies were made of organic materials, and were supposed to decay after the occupant dies. And yet, if Jon remembered correctly, there stood a man who had died nearly twenty years ago now. If only he had Elias’ file on hand so that he could reread it, but it was hard to believe that this could somehow be a coincidence. 

He was so focused on Elias that he didn’t even realize someone was talking to him until Martin abruptly elbowed him in the gut with more force than necessary. Jon stumbled to the side, then shot Martin an annoyed look. “What?”

Elias spoke then, his voice one that should’ve sounded pleasant but instead immediately put Jon on edge. “I was just saying that I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding this place. I know that dealing with the unknown can be traumatic, so you’re very brave for stepping forward like this, Mr. Sims.”

“Call me Jon,” he said reflexively before he could process the rest of that. Jon cleared his throat, and shook his head once. He decided that as long as he didn’t explicitly share his own career details, he wouldn’t be going against Martin’s request. “You wouldn’t happen to already be dead, would you?” He figured that it was worth a shot to at least try asking. Somewhere behind him, he could hear what sounded like Martin smacking himself in the face. 

Something sharpened in Elias’ eyes, and he chuckled with hollow amusement. “Ah, what a peculiar sense of humor you have, Jon.” He stared at Jon for several long seconds before looking at the others in the room. “Ah, I should be getting back to my office now. I had just wanted to swing by to check up on my favorite archivists.” Then he turned and left, his exit as abrupt as his entrance had been. 

Sasha raised one eyebrow. “Well. That was…”

“Odd,” Tim filled in for her.

Martin laughed awkwardly. “I’m, uh, I’m just going to need to speak with Mr. Sims for a moment. Alone.” He grabbed Jon’s hand and yanked him out into the narrow little hallway. “What was that?”

“I think your boss might be dead,” Jon informed him, completely serious. Martin stared at him with an expression that Jon couldn’t interpret, so he thought that explaining further might help. “When my kind are trained for the job, part of our lessons include memorizing the names and faces of everyone who’s ever died. And Elias Bouchard definitely died, in 1996 I think. So maybe you were right about there being some supernatural things that are real, because I have no idea how to explain that one away.”

Martin squeezed his eyes shut as he took several deep breaths in and out. “I have no idea what to do with that,” he said calmly once he’d opened his eyes again. “Look, why don’t you come with me to the break room while I make tea, and then you can sit at my desk and pretend to take a really long time to write your statement, and then… I don’t know. Am I even supposed to be here when I die? I can’t imagine something that horribly painful happening while I’m at work.”

“Not unless you plan on dying from a papercut,” Jon joked. Martin didn’t laugh, and Jon cleared his throat awkwardly. “I uh, I really shouldn’t tell you any of the details. You shouldn’t even know that it happens today, but that is my fault. But if I tell you more, then you might try to avoid it happening, even unintentionally.”

Martin nodded, seeming to accept that. “Then I guess let’s just try and get through the day, at least as much of it as I can.” He led Jon to the break room, which was back up on the ground floor behind a door with a ‘staff only’ sign on it. Nobody else was in there, so Jon felt a little more comfortable.

He watched as Martin pulled out four mugs while waiting for the water to boil, and set them onto a tray. “Why so many?”

For some reason the question seemed to startle Martin, like he’d somehow forgotten that he wasn’t alone in the room. Maybe he had just fallen into a routine that he was used to. “Oh, uh, one for me, Sasha, Tim, and you.”

“You make tea for everyone? Can’t they make it themselves?”

Martin shrugged. “It’s not a bother. Honestly, I find it a bit… comforting, I guess.”

Jon thought of everything he’d read in Martin’s file, then nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. Even if it’s just something small, it’s your way of showing you care. You know, I’m sure they’d be your friends even if you didn’t do stuff for them.”

Martin quickly turned his head away to avoid meeting Jon’s eyes. “I know,” he said with a slight tremble in his voice. “I’m not trying to buy their friendship or anything, I just want to make some tea.” 

“Oh. Well, that’s… nice of you.” Jon knew that kindness and generosity existed, as concepts, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually seen it in action. It was just a small thing, to make tea for his friends every day, but it was surprisingly sweet. It wasn’t what Jon had expected of his first in-person meeting with a living human. 

Jon watched in silence as Martin carefully selected the different flavors of tea to put in each mug, poured the water in once the kettle started steaming, and then measured out different amounts of sugar and cream into each mug. “I’m not sure how you take yours.” He looked up at Jon questioningly. 

Jon shrugged. “I’ve never…” It suddenly seemed embarrassing to admit with Martin looking at him like that, so Jon contented himself with staring just over Martin’s shoulder at the knob on one of the cabinets. “I’ve never had tea before. Or anything else that can be consumed, for that matter.”

Martin blinked once, then nodded. “Right. ‘Cause of the whole… agent of death thing. So you’re not even human? I guess I hadn’t- well.”

“Human-ish.” He decided to leave it at that, since there was no reason to explain just how his kind were made. “We don’t need to eat, and it’s not possible to eat in the office anyways, only here, and this is my first-” he cut himself off, then whirled around to stare at the wall opposite Martin.

There was a long moment of silence before Martin asked, “Are you saying you’ve never done this before? Is that why you- why you messed it up and came early?”

Well, there wasn’t much point in denying it after already letting slip, so Jon heaved out a long sigh, and nodded once, still refusing to turn back around and look at Martin. “And with the way this is going, it’ll probably be a long time until I’m given my next assignment.”

He wasn’t expecting for a gentle hand to land on his shoulder, since he hadn’t even heard Martin walk closer to him. “You were trying to be kind by saving me some pain, who can blame you for that? And hey, if it helps, I’ll leave a good review for you once I’m… wherever.”

“After,” Jon reminded him.

“Yeah.”

Jon sighed, then turned around, and realized that Martin was standing even closer to him than expected. Both of them stared at each other with wide eyes before simultaneously each taking a step back. Both of them had flushed faces, and Jon felt like he was sweating more than usual (though in his defense, any amount of sweat would be more than usual since he’d never sweated before). “We should probably-”

“Yeah-”

They both stared at each other for a long moment, then Martin hurried back over to the mugs. He quickly scooped out all the bags and tossed them in the bin, then made sure the mugs were properly balanced before nodding to the door. “After you.” At the stairs, Martin paused. “Might be difficult to make sure these all make it down without spilling. I usually just take the elevator. It really is a lot less janky than it looks.”

“No need,” Jon told him before reaching out and grabbing two of the mugs. They reshuffled everything so that all the mugs were being held by the handles, which made it easier to avoid spilling any hot tea as they carefully made their way back down the stairs in silence.

Once they returned to the archives, the tea was distributed, and then Martin pulled an extra chair over to his desk so that Jon could sit down. Just as they both got comfortable, a voice called out from an open doorway that Jon hadn’t even noticed before. “Martin!”

Martin sighed and stood up. “I’ll be right back. That’s my boss, Ms. Robinson.” He got up, and after a moment of hesitation, Jon decided to follow.

He stood out of sight while Martin walked into the office. “Is there something you need?”

“I want you to see if you can do any investigating into this case. There’s something very strange about it, and I’d like to make sure that we are thorough in our documentation.”

There was the sound of some shuffling papers, and then Martin nodded. “I’ll be back before the end of the day,” he promised. 

He started to head to the door, but Ms. Robinson cleared her throat to get his attention again. “Oh, and Martin? Do try to be careful.” 

With that he left the office, and seemed barely surprised that Jon was standing there waiting for him. “Guess I’ve got to go out and look into this. You can stay here if you want, I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”

There was a strange sinking feeling in Jon’s stomach that he didn’t really understand. If Martin was heading out now, then he was heading to his death. Then Jon would be able to escort him to After, and all would be right in the world. It was what was supposed to happen. It was the natural way of things. So then why was everything in Jon rebelling against the very idea of it?

,,,

“-wrapped up completely in webs,” Martin was in the middle of explaining.

Jon only realized he had zoned out as he forced himself to zone back in. “What?”

Martin chuckled softly. “I was telling you why I’m being sent here to investigate the place? Have you been listening to me at all?”

“Er, something about webs?” Jon shuddered at the thought. “Ugh. I do not like spiders.”

Martin gave him a curious look. “Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, appreciate all living beings, or something?”

Jon shook his head with no hesitation. “Not if they’re spiders.” Jon didn’t even know why he disliked spiders so much. All he knew was that whenever he thought of them, he pictured giant limbs as big as a grown man’s arm, a faded top hat, and a sickly grin. He shuddered and tried to get his mind off it. He needed to have his head in the game, since Martin was going to be dead in a few short hours, and Jon wanted to be ready to escort Martin away when it was the right time. “So what are we doing here again?”

For some reason, Martin gave him an amused look before answering. “Following up on a statement that came in a few months ago. Ms Robinson wants to make sure that we have all the facts before filing away any statements, since we’re about the pursuit of knowledge and all that. Anyways, if you don’t like spiders, then you’re not going to like this one. The guy who made the statement said he was being followed by an unkillable spider, and just a few weeks ago he was found dead encased in spiderwebs. Still think we’re foolish for looking into this kind of stuff?”

“Spiders may be terrible, but they’re still natural.”

“Even the unkillable ones?”

Jon wrinkled his nose. “Don’t they all seem to be-” he abruptly cut himself off when he felt something squishy beneath his shoe. He paused to lift his foot enough to look at the bottom of his shoe, and scowled at the sight of the white smear. Not because he was particularly attached to these shoes (though he was), or because the sensation had been disgusting (though it had been), but because he knew what this meant. It really wasn’t going to be long now until Martin’s death. Until Martin’s horrific, painful death that Jon had tried to save him from. 

More worms popped apart beneath their feet as they got closer to the building they were looking for, and it was very disturbing. It was a relief to finally reach the front door, though less so when it became quickly apparent that it was locked. “Maybe we should just give up,” Jon suggested before he could refrain, and then immediately mentally berated himself for it. What the hell was he thinking, saying anything that might potentially stop Martin from reaching his fated death?

Luckily, Martin just shook his head. “I think I saw a window around the side that I could probably squeeze into. You keep lookout to make sure I don’t get arrested, alright?” It was almost as though Martin had forgotten about the fact that he was supposed to die today, because Jon knew that Martin wasn’t normally this reckless. Or perhaps he felt safe being reckless now because he knew that he was going to die soon anyways.

Either way, there was barely even enough time to grunt out a vague noise of agreement before Martin popped open the window and shimmied through. Jon kept lookout, but nobody else passed by. It seemed like ages before Martin eventually returned, this time from the direction of the front doors of the building. He looked a bit dusty and had some cobwebs in his hair, but was otherwise fine. “Any luck?” Maybe there was a chance that Martin’s file was wrong. Maybe he’d gotten the information he needed, so there would be no reason for him to go back. If that were the case, then Jon could hardly be accused of interfering. 

But Martin glumly shook his head. “Pretty much just all the same stuff that we already knew. Ms. Robinson’s going to be annoyed probably.” 

Jon leaned over to jostle Martin’s shoulder in what he hoped was a friendly way, and did his best to ignore how he could feel the heat of Martin’s skin even through the layers of both their shirts. “You did your best, how could she be annoyed with that?”

It wasn’t until they were already partially back to the Institute that Martin’s eyes lit up in a way that made Jon’s stomach twist into knots. “There were a bunch of webs down in the basement that I didn’t look at more closely! Look, there’s a little shop right there, I could buy a small torch and go back to double check it. We’re already out here anyways, so it’s at least worth a try, right?”

If he’d thought he were capable of it, Jon would probably throw up. It’s just that Martin looked so bright and passionate and excited. Sure, his life hadn’t amounted to much, but most peoples’ didn’t. Most people lived perfectly ordinary and unremarkable lives, but that didn’t make it any less tragic when they died. And Martin was going to die so young, before he’d even gotten the chance to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. It just wasn’t fair. Martin was kind and funny and had a lovely smile, and it would be such a shame to deprive the world of all the potential of Martin K. Blackwood.

But it wasn’t up to Jon. He wasn’t responsible for saving lives, only escorting them. It’s what he’d been raised to do, and he couldn’t screw up his very first assignment. But then again… what even were the consequences for saving someone who was slated to die? It had never come up during any of his lessons, probably because everybody else always arrived on time, after their client was already dead. Jon had gone off book for this one, and there was no precedent for any of this.

He only had a few minutes left to decide. In less than five minutes, Jane Prentiss would catch Martin, and that would be the end of it. What was he supposed to do, though? He had a duty to do his job the way he’d been taught. Death was a natural part of everything, and humans were not supposed to be able to avoid it.

...oh hell. Jon was already running into the building, darting forward to unlock the basement door just moments before it burst open. Jon grabbed Martin’s hand the same way Martin had grabbed his earlier, and the two of them booked it down the street, away from Prentiss as fast as they could manage. Neither of them would be winning fitness awards anytime soon, but adrenaline was a hell of a drug.

“My place is closer than the Institute,” Martin panted out when they’d paused for just a moment to catch their breaths.

Jon nodded in agreement, since he didn’t know what else he was supposed to do here. He remained silent, and the two of them continued on until they reached Martin’s flat, pursued by little white worms the whole time. As soon as they reached the flat, they both began grabbing at anything they could use to block off all the little cracks the worms could potentially get in through, managing to move around each other in the small flat like they’d been doing it for years.

After they’d finished sealing up everything they could think of, they both collapsed down onto the ratty little sofa together. “Man, that was a close one,” Martin breathed out. “If you hadn’t been there…” he trailed off, and then something in his eyes shifted as it must’ve clicked. “You- you saved my life. I was supposed to die back there, wasn’t I?”

“You’re the one who said you aren’t ready to die yet. Have you changed your mind so soon?”

Martin shook his head, but he still looked uncertainly at Jon. “But won’t this cause problems? Like is the universe at stake now or something?”

Jon huffed out a breath of laughter. “No offense, Martin, but your life isn’t exactly important enough for it to affect the universe. The universe doesn’t care about any of us.” 

“And what about you? Won’t you get in trouble?”

Instead of answering, Jon slowly pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a deep breath before turning it on. It was now long past the time that Martin was supposed to have died, and there were already many notifications alerting him to missed calls and texts. Not wanting to deal with his boss at the moment, Jon shoved his phone back into his pocket, and slumped back. “Well it’s not like they can fire me,” he hedged. Truthfully, though, Jon had absolutely no idea what the consequences of this would be, for him, or for Martin, or for anyone. 

Martin must’ve been able to read some of that from Jon’s face, because he just offered a tired smile. “Well, even if the mistake has to be corrected right now, I’m still grateful for even a little extra time. Thank you, Jon.” He started to reach out to gently take hold of Jon’s hand- and that’s when the knocking started.

,,,

They’d been holed up for two days, and Jon was sick and tired of it. He had not risked something (everything?) to save Martin just to see Martin live out the rest of his days in misery and terror. Martin had fallen asleep to white noise videos playing on youtube on Jon’s phone, which meant that Martin wouldn’t be able to get in the way to get hurt.

Jon was ready to deal with this problem before it got any worse. He grabbed a knife from the kitchen, and did his best to breathe steadily as he quietly made his way to the front door. He’d never done anything like this before. He was an agent of death (assuming he hadn’t been fired), but he was not a killer. Still, he couldn’t just let Prentiss continue terrorizing them like this.

Jon made a mental apology to Martin for however much this might stain the carpets, then yanked the door open and prepared himself to start swinging the knife immediately. No one was there, though. It could have been some kind of a trap, but Jon much preferred to think of it as being able to have good luck, for once in his life.

,,,

Jon did feel a bit bad about waking Martin up when he actually seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but it seemed more important to get away now than to have a restful nap. Before they left, Martin grabbed an empty jar and scooped one of the dead worms from the hallway into it. “For evidence,” he said grimly.

They were just outside the Institute when the insistent buzzing coming from his phone came to an abrupt stop, and Jon nervously glanced around. He immediately spotted the person that wasn’t supposed to be there, and sighed. “You go in and get started with your statement. I’ll catch up with you.”

Martin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he scanned the parking lot for anything unusual, but didn’t seem to notice anything odd. “Are you sure? I can wait out here with you.” He gulped as he continued to look around, this time his gaze directed at the ground. “It’s dangerous. She could still be out here.”

Jon couldn’t help but smile at the concern in Martin’s voice. It made him feel warm inside like nothing he’d ever experienced before. “I’ll be alright, Martin. I’m not even alive, so it’s not as though I can die. I’ll just be a few minutes, I promise.” 

After giving him a long, searching look, Martin finally nodded and then hurried inside. As soon as he was out of side, Jon strode over to where the interloper was casually leaning up against the side of a random car. “Jon.”

“Oh, uh, hi, Oliver. Wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Oliver arched one eyebrow impressively high. “Boss said you must’ve run into some trouble, seeing as you haven’t returned a single call. Or text. Or email. So what is it? Job turn out to be harder than you expected?”

Jon debated lying for a moment, but there was really no point. Even if he managed to fool Oliver, which he probably wouldn’t considering the man’s special talent for seeing who was going to die, there was no way Jon would be able to fool their boss. He let out a heavy sigh, then leaned up against the car as well. “It didn’t seem fair, is all,” Jon started in what was supposed to be an unbothered voice, but came out sounding rather small. “He’s got so much potential.”

The look Oliver gave him was sympathetic, but that wouldn’t be enough in this situation. “Jon… everything in this universe has it’s time. You know that. If you aren’t ready to do this, then that’s alright. You know that most of the agents take a lot longer before they’re given their first assignment. Nobody’s going to blame you for not having a perfect run. Why don’t you head back to the office, and I’ll escort Martin to where he needs to go?”

Jon shook his head before he could even think about it. “No, I can’t just let you-” The insistent buzzing in Jon’s pocket cut him off, and he pulled out his phone in annoyance. He winced at the sight of over one hundred missed calls from the boss, and now here was another one. He really didn’t want to answer. He could argue with Oliver, little good as it might do, but there was no arguing with the boss. Still, at this point it would probably make things worse to ignore the boss. So he took a deep breath, then answered the call and raised his phone to his ear. “Yes?”

He listened for several minutes as Oliver stared at him with undisguised curiosity, and then wordlessly handed the phone out to Oliver. Oliver took it, listened for a minute, then nodded once. “I understand.” Then he hung up and gave Jon his phone back. “Well, I guess that’s the boss’ final decision. I really don’t understand how he can just… But I suppose it hardly matters what I think of this. Well, good luck, Jon. Our kind aren’t meant to be outside the office for too long, especially one as young as you, but I’m sure you’re stubborn enough to make it work.” He gave Jon a friendly pat on the shoulder, then turned and walked away.

Jon just stared at Oliver as he left, not really paying much attention. His mind was still reeling from that phone call. Then a smile slowly crawled across his face, and Jon abruptly turned and ran into the Institute, ignoring the loud shout from the receptionist. 

He went down to the basement, and stood impatiently outside of the Head Archivist’s office, not wanting to interrupt Martin’s statement. Martin emerged a few minutes later, looking tired and messy but absolutely wonderful. “I can stay!” Jon shouted before he could stop himself. He could feel Sasha and Tim’s curious eyes on him, and cleared his throat as he lowered his voice to something less excitable. “My boss said that I can stay. Nobody knows when you’ll die anymore, since the files never updated, which means an agent needs to be nearby to escort you to After once you’re ready. Hopefully that won’t be for a long while, though.” He stared off pensively as he thought about what all of this meant. “I’ll need to find a job, and a flat of my own, and-”

Martin reached out to rest his hand gently on Jon’s arm. He cleared his throat more times than seemed necessary. “You could- you could always stay at my place. I mean, you didn’t seem to mind the past two days, and I think we got along pretty well. And we could always get a fold out couch or something if you don’t feel comfortable sharing the- the bed long term.”

Jon shrugged. “If you really don’t mind, then that sounds like a gre- an acceptable idea. Ah, but don’t bother wasting your money, the bed’s more than big enough for the both of us.”

There was a sharp inhale of breath from somewhere behind them, and then Tim made his way over and grabbed at Martin’s arm. “Hey, Martin, can I speak to you about something, er, over here?” Martin had a bemused look on his face as he shrugged helplessly at Jon and let himself get pulled away.

While Jon waited for Martin to return, he heard someone else call out to him. “Mr. Sims?” The voice came from inside the office, and presumably belonged to Ms. Robinson. He poked his head into the office, and she beckoned him to come in further. Once he was standing across from her desk, he had to deal with her piercing gaze, and resisted the urge to fidget. “Did I hear you correctly about needing a job?” 

Jon nodded hesitantly. “Yes, uh, yes ma’am.”

She narrowed her eyes and stared at him for what felt like ages before she nodded once. “Well it just so happens that there is an opening for another assistant down here. The starting pay isn’t anything special, but there is dental.”

Jon frowned as he looked closer at Ms. Robinson. From the look on her face, it wouldn’t really bother her one way or another whether he accepted the offer or not. Still, this was weird, wasn’t it? “Don’t you need to see my resume or cv or something?”

There was an amused quirk at the corner of Ms. Robinson’s mouth as she answered. “I hardly think I need to see your qualifications to work at an Institute dedicated to documenting the unknown.” There was a knowing glint in her eyes as well, making it quite clear that even if she didn’t know exactly what Jon was, she knew he was no ordinary person.

Jon thought about it for a moment, then reached out his hand. “I’m sure it will be a pleasure working here.”

“I’m not sure I’d call it that,” she said lightly. “But welcome aboard all the same, Mr. Sims.” She shook his hand, and just like that, he was employed.

Martin eventually wandered back over from where Tim had been talking to him, and there was a faint blush that covered most of his face. Jon debated asking what exactly they’d discussed together, but then decided that he didn’t really want to know. “So what’s the plan?”

Martin shrugged one shoulder. “I guess we head home, fortify the place some more, get you settled in properly. Maybe after we’re both cleaned up a bit, we can go out shopping to get you some clothes.”

Jon looked down at what he was wearing, which was his own pants and shoes, with one of Martin’s jumpers that was definitely a bit too big on him. He looked back up at Martin. “I thought you didn’t mind me borrowing your clothes.”

That seemed to make Martin’s face get even redder. “It’s not that, it’s just… well.” He cleared his throat before trying again when it was clear that Jon did not, in fact, know. “If you’re going to be living here for a while, then you’re going to be needing your own stuff.”

That sounded reasonable enough, so Jon nodded in agreement. “Alright. So home first to clean up, and then shopping.”

“So you’re ready to be human?”

Jon scoffed. “I can hardly change what I am, Martin.” Then he sighed and added, “But I suppose that it is exciting to at least give it a try.” He reached out without thinking to take Martin’s hand, and the two of them left the Institute together, ready to face whatever the future might bring. 


End file.
